


Transformation, Bloodlust, Crave

by vikinghel



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post Season 8, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21692860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vikinghel/pseuds/vikinghel
Summary: After the devastation in King's Landing, and the forming of a Northern Kingdom, Jon watches as the lady of his attentions prays in the Godswood. There is more to him than anyone knows, and it is becoming harder to control.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	Transformation, Bloodlust, Crave

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt sent to my tumblr - @viking-hel - where it was originally posted!

This [tumblr post!](https://viking-hel.tumblr.com/post/189478802535/prompt-before-the-transformation-takes-and-the)

* * *

She was a tall woman. A fire-bright spectral lady as she swept across the snow-blanket, her scaled dress flickering black and inky blue in the dying sunlight. He’d always watched her. Saw her grow on the dais from his place by the door, like the runt of the pack, a dog being fed scraps; his silver lupine eyes had never missed that kissed-by-fire hair as she darted between cold statues for the dead, laughing with her brothers and sister.

Now…now is so far removed from those days. He was no longer by the door. She’d reached her hand down to him and brought him up to the dais with her, called him Stark for all the North to see, whether they agreed or not. 

She was a beacon in the darkening day. And a beacon to him. Since Bran took the throne and the North became it’s own kingdom, she’d kept him there. _“Her commander had no authority over you. You shan’t be going north of the wall.”_

Arya had agreed, and before she ventured off to the Riverlands in search of her wolf, she’d given Sansa a knowing glance which was not returned except with a brief nod. Jon wondered about that as Sansa stalked across the grounds and into the Godswood. ‘ _Why is she going there?’_

He prowled behind her silently, each footstep quiet. The sky darkened; the inky black seeped into the pinks and purples of the dying sun, casting long shadows like unfurling claws, eager to snatch up some unwitting prey as it passed. 

He was not prey. And neither was she, not any more. 

The silvery moon became clear in the black and his blood sung; it sung for someone, for _her_ , his heart and mind knew this. His blood had always sung for her in the silence of every winter-bright moon, in the dark of every room.

… _before the transformation takes and the bloodlust takes and the crave gets slaked_ …

In the depths of the blood-capped leaves he found her. Kissed-by-fire and gleaming in the moonlight; she was beautiful. He felt his skin tingle and a growl form deep in his chest. Tonight, there was something in the air, a magic he could almost taste. His skin tingled again. This time he did growl. He felt his heart beat faster and faster…he groaned as he fell to his knees, mirroring her position. 

“Jon?”

Her voice was quiet and caring; it was a balm on the fire in this blood. Through his tussled hair he saw she was peering at him over her shoulder. He calmed, and a soft whine escaped his lips as his lupine eyes glided over her pinked cheeks and nose.

_By the Gods, what is she doing to me?_

_“_ Jon? Jon, are you alright?” Her voice was thick with tension as she climbed to her feet. He remained on his knees, staring pleadingly up at her as she approached. “Jon?”

He sighed roughly, gazing up at her bathed in moonlight. “San…Sansa,” he croacked; the moonlight made her eyes shine and her hair became a torch. “Sansa.”

Sansa reached for him but he could not lift his hand to hers, worried that even the slightest movement would awaken the heat, the _lust_ , the _craving_ -’ _No! No, I cannot! Not her!’_

_‘Why not?’_

_“_ Jon…” Her gentle, soft hand rested against his curls and he could not keep from pressing into it. It trailed down to his face and the moment her skin touched his it made everything jump alive again. His blood began to sing again, loudly, unrelentingly. 

_Now-now-now_. _Craving. Take it!_

A deep growl burbled up from his chest and he heard her take in a shuddering breath. His breathing was rough and raspy as he let her see his eyes. She did not step back upon seeing them. “Do…do you _see_ it?”

Sansa nodded slowly. “I think so,” she said softly, “but…how?”

Jon shook his head. What words could describe this feeling? This craving? He didn’t expect her to drop to her knees before him; weakly he tried to pry her from the ground but she would not move. She pulled his hands away from her cloak and smoothed back his hair from his face and oh-so carefully pressed her lips to his forehead, just like he had once on hers.

Sansa snaked her arms about his neck and pulled him tight into her body; her cheek rested on his head as she shielded him from everything. Jon sagged into her warmth. 

He would do nothing else in the Godswood. ‘ _No craving will drive me to do it. Not here.’_ So there he stayed, with the one who made his blood sing with fire. A girl with the same fire in her hair.


End file.
